


Breakdown

by IdolDaydreams



Series: 50 Prompts Personal Challenge [3]
Category: VIXX
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 18:30:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7812547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdolDaydreams/pseuds/IdolDaydreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Offering him nothing but silence was, by far, the cruelest thing you’ve ever done."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakdown

He’s on your mind today. Posters have been going up around the city for VIXX’s latest comeback, and with them, reminders of Hakyeon. You glance at one on the way to work, see him covered in heavy makeup, altered. It’s just N, you tell yourself - not really him. Still, the seed is planted. Visions of selfies with grey-stained eyes and sweat-limp hair slow you, distract you from your walk. His last text to you, one you ignored, was months ago. You won’t be getting any updates now. 

In that last text, he wanted to talk. You were still livid from the fight an hour before. Your arguments were never malicious, but they were too frequent, too draining. You told yourself you’d reply when you felt calmer - when you had the energy again. Then hours became days, and days became weeks. Hakyeon, to your surprise and despair, never pushed for a reply. Guilt choked what emotional exhaustion didn’t. Offering him nothing but silence was, by far, the cruelest thing you’ve ever done.

Your mood is shot by the time you make it to work. The shop is empty save for two coworkers you maintain a polite, but distant relationship with. You paste on a pleasant smile for them, start about your duties. One tells you they’ve had barely a handful of customers all day. You sigh inwardly at the news. Fewer customers, fewer distractions.

By the middle of your shift, there’s only two of you left. Your remaining company says something about checking inventory, goes to the back. In reality, he’s probably taking a nap. You can’t blame him. Your last hour has been spent leaning against the counter, boredom too heavy a burden to carry. Every few minutes, you glance out the window to watch passersby. A couple take a moment to stand and look in. Most simply keep walking. During one such glance, you catch sight of a silhouette which looks like Hakyeon’s. You tell yourself you’ve been thinking too much, that he’s too busy to come here. And why would he? Then the silhouette stops at the door.

The bell hanging on the door frame announces Hakyeon’s arrival. He pulls his mask down around his chin. His happily neutral expression, the one he reserves for the cameras, is a thin veneer. His eyes sparkle with something you can’t quite place. You’re not certain he can either. Under his gaze, you pull yourself to standing. You instinctively close yourself off, make yourself smaller. Hakyeon’s gaze travels to your crossed arms. Whatever implacable emotion he’s harboring becomes a little sadder. Minutely his lips purse.

He greets you with polite language. When you were together, he used it in public to protect you. Hearing it now puts a lead weight in your chest. Despite the softness in his voice, it feels tense. Final. Like the closure you denied him. You respond to it in kind, greet him like you would any other customer.

“How are you?” he asks. His head tilts slightly.

It’s a loaded question. By the way he’s looking at you, reading you, he knows. You cycle through the most truthful responses of “I miss you”, “I hate myself”, and “Why did you have to come today”. You settle for the lie. “Oh, I’m fine. How are you?”

Hakyeon nods. In the way he pauses, you see he doesn’t like what he hears. Still, he settles for what you offered. “Oh, you know. Busy. We’re preparing for a lot lately.” Not a lie, but it’s as close a one as he can give you. It’s too vague, too cold. You feel your expression change, see it register on his face. His eyes shine less now, become more a pair of dark clouds. In those clouds you think you see hope, but you don’t dare search for it.

He asks you about all the things he remembers. The things you were interested in, what became of all your worries, how your friend’s wedding was that he wouldn’t have missed before the silence. Each question becomes more of a struggle to answer. Your leaden heart sinks further until it touches the sole of your foot. You ask him the same in return, but his answers are shorter, vaguer. He seems only to want to talk about you. You can’t tell if he’s curious or protecting himself. Maybe both.

When it seems he’s run out of questions, there’s a tense pause. He glances at your hands, searches your face. Whatever he’s looking for, he doesn’t seem to find. You wonder, but forbid yourself to entertain, if he’s looking for the same thing you are. Some crack in your armor, some spark to the kindling you still bear. Even if he is, you can’t bring yourself to show him first. Much as you want it, much as you want him to be angry just to show he feels something, what’s done is done.

“Are you seeing someone now?” he asks finally, carefully.

You hesitate. Your arms uncross. “Hakyeon--”

He interrupts you, holding up his hands, “I’m sorry. Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.” The final sentence is tinged with a bitter chuckle, his voice a little tighter.

There’s a strong pull to comfort him. Before the silence, you’d have hopped over the counter to do it. Even after it, if he’d just been a little quicker. Now, the weight of unresolve holds you in place. You offer him a passive nod and look down.

After another pause, he takes out and glances at his phone. “I should go. I didn’t have much time.” He hesitates before putting it back in his pocket. “Just wanted to stop in.”

“Okay,” you reply, lower and softer than you wanted.

With this he slowly backs away, says his goodbyes. The last thing he says before walking out is your name. It’s heavy on his tongue, mournful, and without polite formality.

You spend the rest of your shift holding back tears. While you manage to compose yourself for the customers, they are few enough and far enough between that you crumble the moment the store is empty again. Your coworker, content to mind his own business, mentions nothing. Comfort isn’t really what you’re wanting anyway.

Nearly the second you walk in your apartment door, you receive a text. Your chest tightens at the sounding alert. You give yourself enough time to step out of your shoes before you take out your phone. It’s Hakyeon. Your hands trembling, you slide the lock.

It reads: “I know you didn’t want to see me. It’s okay. I won’t come back.”

A choking sob rips through your thoat. As your vision blurs with tears, you type the first thing that comes to mind. “You deserved better. I’m sorry.”


End file.
